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Ghost wind blows
the last leaves down
Moon so big
the sky disappears
Corn so dead
it's ground for Johnny
If Johnny ever
comes marching home
Lancelot Price 2014 July 24
AncientThe Ancient One watched. From the very beginning of All, he watched. He observed as the Universe of universes arrived, as the stars came to be, as the galaxies formed, as the worlds arrived. All made of Universal stuff transformed. Seemingly endless changes from things to other things proceded unimpeded. The great game was beautiful. Entertaining. Fun. And then came the holes, the black, the always empty. Worlds were hurled to Darkness, places without places, without event. Where nothing happened. Not ever. Where Ever was Not. Slowly, oh, so slowly, the Universe of universes faded and disappeared. And was gone. The Ancient One had nothing more to watch and cried timeless and empty tears.
Lancelot Price 2014 June 21
The floor above the doorway lions.For a photo, click on the following link, and then click on the photo on the far right of the wiki page
I used to live in this house, the one at the left of the photo, at the intersection. On the floor above the doorway lions, with its 'floating' tower on the front corner. It's one of five houses on what is called Werne's Row. Werne was an antiques dealer who built a house for himself on the north end of the block and separate houses for each of his four children. It was a stylish part of town way back then, but by the time my family lived there, the style had gone down along with the property values. At least two of the houses had been converted to stacks of single-floor apartments. Rent must have been cheap if wE could afford to live there for a few months. Churchill Downs was only a short distance away to the west of us, and the Kentucky Derby was a part of my childhood and my adult memory and character.
I accidentally came across this
freshFresh is the flower in the morning
that wilts away in day.
So pale and delicate
It cannot stand against the sun
You and I
we are one
Lancelot Price 2014 July 7
the endThe man in the shadows stirs from his rest and leans forward. As his head and arm and hand come into the light, he turns the page in front of me and I play what he reveals. His face remains hidden as he returns to shadow. I've never seen this music before; I've only lived once, and do not know the end. Nor even the beginning. And will not know end or reason until I've lived it all. Being the slippery thing it is, reason has always escaped me. This music is written by a hand that is never seen and may not even ..... be.
Perhaps I write the music in my dreams.
And yet I play.
Lancelot Price 2014 July 7
The Coast Is ClearThe coast is clear. The moonlight beach is empty and without a shadow. We see no watchers but ourselves. No enemies. The submarine will come this early morning to bring our friends. It might be better if there were clouds to hide our darkness from the dim clear light, but there are none. At least we may watch for watchers. War makes us do strange and dangerous things in the deeps of our minds. This is surely one of them. The enemy has done this to us, mAde us scheme and fight.
A doubt remains. Is it not we who made war and not war that made us do?
The sub will be here at 0300 hours. Till then we wait. And think. Then the secret invasion begins.
The coast is clear.
Lancelot Price 2014 July 7
I'm scared of the future.
I see it happening, around me every day. Undoing the memories, undoing the lives of others I knew. And know. Forgetting the wonderful things I knew when childish glee reigned supreme.
This was the future then, you know. Light-spangled cities, soaring into skies, aircraft speeding to other and better worlds of happiness, truly auto mobiles that drove themselves, carrying me in silent comfort on my way to everywhere, reading of wonders, eliminating Time, and boring hours spent in smog. Bringing books to me, and paintings, and promises of emotion. All for free, all free today.
I never knew then what it costs, this marvel world, this paradise. I didn't know that I could no longer drive. It was before I could drive you know, this fantasy, this wonder. This world made safe. For mEEEE. And all you others. We're safe because we're not allowed.
I'm forgetting the things they let us do then. I'll forget some more tomorrow.
I'll forget to be
MoonblinkIt was Moonblink, that time of the month loved by lovers and other thieves. Invisible to others and even they could not see without red flashbeams or infrared goggles. Silent and stealthy, they take their pleasures and treasures as they find them, too strong a passion to resist. And once upon a Moonblink, a howl is heard in the darkness.
Lancelot Price 2014 July 1
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
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